0 comments/ 66546 views/ 1 favorites Just a Job By: hdm303lj Angela checked the address once again. She looked between the bars of the gate and gave one long, low whistle. Miss Rebecca Bingham was more than filthy rich. If she played her cards right, she could land a permanent position within those walls. Walking up to the guardhouse, she reviewed everything she knew about Miss Bingham. According to local rumor, her family had always been rich and always lived somewhere in town. She was born into money... and the shit that small towns with their own royalty brings. When she was thirteen, rumor has it that her father, drunk off his ass, decided she needed to be indoctrinated into the world of sex. She managed to get off a scream, and got help from one of the black servants her father loved so dearly. One quick trial later and the servant was charged and convicted of rape and sodomy with a minor. Southern Justice at its level worst. Rebecca never forgot that moment. By sixteen she was a confirmed lesbian... and an open one. In the South, such a thing was totally unheard of. But she was Old Money; no one dared say anything. When she disappeared for ten years, no one said a damn thing. If her parents hadn't died in that plane crash, no one would be saying anything now. But they did. And she was their only heir. And since she never married or even hinted at having borne an illegitimate child, the line ended with her. True to Southern form, the vultures were circling. Everyone wanted a piece of that fortune. Angela only wanted a job. The temp agency sent her to Miss Bingham because she's requested a personal assistant. No local female... for Miss Bingham requested ONLY females... would apply. Angela felt certain that her status as an out-of-town college student guaranteed her first shot at this job. Besides... she'd bedded her share of women; if the sixty-three year old heiress wanted a young cunt to fuck before she died, she was willing. Angela pressed the intercom button and waited for a reply. A full minute passed before it crackled to life. "Miss Angela Stone from the agency. Sorry to make you wait. Please come in." As the gate opened, Angela replayed the voice over in her mind. Maybe it was something in the electronics, but she was sure the voice sounded like it belonged to a much younger woman. She shook her head and followed the tree-lined driveway to her destination. At the front door to the mansion, she paused to look around. Even though she couldn't bee it, she knew the place had a basement. Significant... but only because it looked to be five stories tall!!! The front doors were ten feet tall, and looked to be made out of solid redwood. Brass... POLISHED brass... decorated everything from the key latches to the doorknobs to the two lanterns flanking the doors. The place was well maintained... which brought a very disturbing question to mind. Where was the staff needed to keep the place looking like this? The front door opened and Angela found herself staring at a very beautiful, very NAKED Miss Rebecca Bingham. She may have been sixty-three, but she looked no older than thirty-three. Overweight, but in a way Angela never knew could be sexy. Large tits, capped with stiff brown nipples, gave way to an almost slender waist. This gave way to wide hips, gently flaring without the lumps of imperfection to mar the image of seductiveness. Faint traces of makeup graced her face, doing more to subdue the power within her than to accentuate beauty. All told, Miss Rebecca Bingham was sexy as hell. Angela forced herself to appear calm as she spoke. "Good afternoon Miss Bingham. I'm..." "Please spare me the speech, dear. I'm too old to be sold by it. Just come in and let me talk to you for a moment. If you still want the job, I'll get rid of the middleman and we'll have a better time." The nude Miss Bingham turned and walked inside. Her ass moving easily. But not seductively. Angela shrugged and followed. "Before we begin, let me sort truth from lie. I am a lesbian. Have been for quite some time. Don't really see that changing any time soon. That said... it should be quite logical that everyone working for me is at least a bisexual FEMALE. No men are allowed on my property. Not even the mailman is male. As owner of the grounds, I will take what I want when I want. So if you've got a problem with munching on sixty year-old twat, I suggest you find somewhere else to work. "If you have a problem with working with lesbians or bisexual women, get out. If you can't abide by the rule here, get out. Otherwise, you'll be subject to MY punishment. And believe me; it's better to spend twenty years in jail than to deal with me, Angela. "We're rather informal here... unless otherwise notified. If you make the grade, you'll be expected to memorize the name of every female working on the grounds. Nicknames and cunt flavors are optional. "I understand you are a student. Good; I always wanted a fresh outlook on things. And since you're from out-of-state, your outlook is bound to be about as fucked up as mine. Fell free to bitch, moan and complain. So long as the rules are followed, I honestly don't give a fuck what or who you do while employed by me. "Any questions?" The entire speech filled only a few moments, but the tour of the first floor matched it to the second. Meeting room. Kitchen. Dining room. Downstairs study. One speech, one brief tour of the place. Angela fought back the smile; she knew what was happening to her. She took back most of the bad things said about her most recent ex-boyfriend as Rebecca lead her through a back door. "This is the pool area. It's covered to keep out the nosey whores across the road. Feel free to make use of it in your spare time." Angela's eyes were drawn immediately to the two figured writhing on the ground. Both were female. Neither could be older than sixteen. "Before you ask, every female here of legal age. I don't go for the child molester thing, dear." "You've done this before, Miss..." "Please. Call me Rebecca. And yes I have done this before. An old friend taught me how to be a functional paranoid. Best lesson I've ever learned. If you stay here any length of time, you'll learn it also. "Your interview is in thirty minutes. I'll send Maria down. She'll show you to the guest room assigned to you." With a curt nod, Rebecca turned and headed inside. A minute later, a beautiful brunette, nude, walked up to her. "Angela? I am Maria. Please follow me." Angela followed, forcing herself not to look at Maria's tight ass cheeks as she walked. Neither made a sound as they walked up the stairs. Apparently the guest quarters were on the top floor. Angela felt something was odd about that, but remained silent. Maria opened a door, and stepped aside. Angela stepped into her room... and immediately wondered exactly how much money Rebecca had. The entire room was furnished in black and purple. Rich, creamy purple that screamed luxury. Scented candles... her favorite scent... burned quietly. They sat on a vanity desk that was bigger than her bed at home. The floor was carpeted in thick plush, and looked freshly cleaned. The bed was modest. Covered in silk sheets, yes. But still modest. The gold goblets on the nightstand were most definitely NOT modest. Nor was the bottle of wine beside them... or the silver wine bucket. "Impressive," she whispered. "Rebecca ordered that you be made comfortable. Please feel free to contact me if you need anything. There is a computer terminal on the right hand side of the vanity. It does not have internet access, however." Angela smiled, then set about walking around the room. Maria bowed then let herself out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Angela closed her eyes; the faint prickling on the back of her neck told her she was being observed. Eventually, satisfied that she couldn't find any of the hidden cameras, She sat down in front of the vanity. The faint glow from the monitor to her right seemed to fit somehow. She opened up the word processing program and began jotting down some notes. * * * * Rebecca watched the monitor carefully, stroking the head between the plump thighs as if it were a favorite pet. Which in some ways it was... or at least the body the head belonged to was a pet. Rebecca's pet. She smiled at the memory of just how her most rabid foe became her plaything. Lack of movement in Angela's room froze the smile on Rebecca's face. Yet no humor reached her eyes. She knew Angela was sharper than she let on. Only the high-tech surveillance system guaranteed that the young student was always under a watchful eye. Rebecca shivered as Debra's tongue slid over her clit. Angela was going to be a hard sell. But if she took the job, the rest was easy. A quick jerk and Debra's face was free. Rebecca stood up, dragging the blonde behind her. As she exited the room she dropped the exhausted body on the floor. Now that she was warmed up, it was time for the interview. She signaled for Maria to bring Angela to the Interview Room, then made here way there. It looked like any corporate boardroom. A long, oak table dominated the center of the room. Plush leather chairs were placed perfectly around the oblong table. Small monitors were sunk into the table, one for each seat. The seat farthest from the double doors was largest. It also looked sinister. Solid black, it reflected no light. Behind the chairman's seat there was a huge monitor. Not even the small water pitchers seemed out of place... to the untrained eye. Rebecca walked over to the largest seat and sat down. Her fingers played over the hidden keypad under her left hand, and the chair came to life. The soft vibrations ensured that Debra's prior efforts were not wasted. Rebecca closed her eyes... and waited. The faint click as the door handle was touched announced Angela's presence. Rebecca remembered the layout if the room, superimposing an imaginary female form opening the doors quietly, wondering what lay beyond. As soon as the door close, Rebecca opened her eyes. "Have a seat, Angela," Rebecca said casually. She watched as the Beautiful brunette approached the table, and bit back the smile as Angela chose the seat directly to her right hand side. Bold. Cocky. She would do well. "As my personal assistant, you will be required to do virtually anything I ask. I won't ask you to break the law, but you'll bend the Hell out of it. It's not a job for someone with other loyalties. I will ensure that you have sufficient time to complete your studies and still maintain something of a social life. "You will also be requested to service me. I know you understand, but for the record, you WILL be required to fuck and/or suck me. The entire contract is being downloaded to the monitor in front of you. If you agree, a hard copy will be given to you at the end of the interview. "Also, my personal assistant must be open minded. There will be occasions where I ask for something that will make my assistant... uncomfortable. So if you're racist, or prejudiced for any reason, get the fuck out of my house this instant. "Please read the contract. If you agree, the stylus on your left hand side can be used to electronically sign it." She fell silent, the soft vibrations within the chair stroking her cunt back into awareness. Rebecca noticed that Angela scrolled up and down several times, twisting her face slightly as she sought to unravel the meaning of the contract. This was comforting; the young woman wasn't so trusting after all. Even though Angela never flinched when she was told about her bedroom duties, Rebecca still wondered if the young woman would have the evil... She noticed the cold stare in Angela's eyes, and her heart thundered in her chest. "You may as well ask, Angela." Rebecca's cunt pulsed softly, anticipating the words. "Why me? This contract was specifically drawn up for me. It's too specific. If all you wanted to do was fuck me, why not drop by Malcolm's. Everyone knows I hang out there. I'm sure no one would think twice about you..." "Oh yes they would. I donate a great deal of money to the college. So much that I had to cut a deal." Rebecca watched Angela's eyes carefully. The young woman was thinking over her somewhat odd statement. Rebecca focused everything on Angela, totally ignoring her pleading cunt. Angela knew something really big was about to happen. Rebecca was beginning to fidget. The faint smell of feminine arousal drifted by her nose on several occasions. A quick glance at Rebecca's bare breasts confirmed everything. Rebecca was horny; she wanted Angela to be her personal slut. Angela, at this moment, had total control over Rebecca. That was the sex-logic of the situation. So why did Angela's gut twist and turn, yelling at her that something was VERY wrong. She closed her eyes for a moment, banishing the fears and doubts. When she opened them again, they fell immediately on the famous dotted line. Picking up the stylus, she signed the contract. Rebecca came. Her orgasm literally sliced through her spinal chord. She jerked only ONCE, then remained motionless as her eyes darted around. She didn't care that Angela was watching. Rebecca was in heaven, and had gotten there via the express elevator. This always happened when a plan goes exactly like she wanted. She never tired of the experience. Angela noticed that her new boss was cumming. She smiled; first orgasm she ever gave without even touching her lover. Not bad for her first day on the job. Angela sat back in her chair. She felt the binders pin her in place, and began to panic. "What the...?" "Shut up, sit back, and enjoy the ride, Angela. From now on I call the shots." Rebecca rose, retrieving the sharp trench knife from its hidden sheath in the arm of her chair. * * * * Angela tried to calm herself. She was now totally nude, and the knife never touched her skin once. Comforting... until she realizes the skill Rebecca must have in order to keep the wicked looking blade from EVER touching her twitching form. Panic began twisting her body. She fought the panic with everything she had; this was not the time to lose her mind. The chair suddenly moved. She felt something press its way into her cunt. The ease of entry surprised her... until she realized how hot she was. Rebecca had managed to somehow arouse her well beyond anyone else!! Angela knew what was being done to her. She knew how the average mind would respond to such stimulus. Rebecca was trying to break her spirit and mind. Angela KNEW this. That single thought banished all fear. Destroyed all doubt. Angela Smythe was in control of her OWN life and destiny. No one would take that from her. She turned her head towards Rebecca, and let the power of her conviction flash briefly in her eyes... before enjoying the sensations in her body. Strangely, she began thinking about the sensations from an emotional viewpoint. She was obviously being raped. Yet she DID sign a contract virtually making herself a slave to Rebecca. The woman was going to use her like a fucktoy anyway; she just chose this way first. One mental shrug later, and Angela settled back, content with her final judgement. This was nothing more than a hook-up. A smile crept on her face as she felt the object grow within her cunt. As it began fucking her, she tried once again to free herself. Not because she didn't want to be raped; she wanted to help the damn thing. It was too fucking slow. She wanted to get FUCKED. Rebecca knew the movements for what they were. Angela was well and truly within her role as Personal Assistant. The knife safely hidden, she tapped out the sequence on her keypad. Once Angela was free, she immediately adjusted herself so she could get truly fucked by the pseudo-dick. Rebecca, now seated in her chair, activated her chair's penises. She set the controls for minimum and began to speak. "Thank you, Angela. You've passed the interview with flying colors. Just as I knew you would. Welcome to my home. I'll introduce you to everyone soon enough. Right now... sit back and relax. If you want to stop, just say, 'peanut butter.' Your chair has been programmed to do whatever you want. High-tech, but worth every penny. I'll give you a complete run-down on everyone and everything when we're done... and rested." "But... what... if... I.. wa... wa... waaaaaa..." Rebecca watched Angela fight her impending orgasm. It was a true test of will. Angela's face was twisted in a bizarre blend of concentration on not cumming... and that bliss-distorted thing that a truly powerful orgasm will do to one's features. Both images rippled across the young woman's face. Rebecca drank in the sight, her own orgasm steadily creeping up on her. She tapped out a command she seldom used: Condition Yellow, Status 5. This was as high as she'd ever taken the chair. Just one level lower is all she could take before her heart gave out. Thank God Helen was there. But that was twenty years ago and she HAD been ill most of the time. She was much stronger now. Angela felt the tears roll down her cheek. She wanted to cum... and she DIDN'T want to cum. Not right now. Not when she needed to know if her boss would ever get around to actually TOUCHING her. Toys were nice, but she NEEDED physical contact. Her left hand snapped out and grabbed one of Rebecca's huge tits... only to lose it seconds later. Angela, frustrated at this denial, opened her eyes... while wondering when they'd been shut. Her vision caught the fuzzy outline of someone moving towards her. Rebecca. Her face... where? Hot air slid over her clit, and Angela jerked as if hit by lightning. She was going to cum. Hard. No questions asked on this one; she WAS going to cum. Rebecca jumped out of her chair as soon as Angela's hand touched her tit. According to the contract, it wasn't official until Angela touched Rebecca in an obviously sexual manner. That counted. Falling to her knees, Rebecca blew a breath of air over Angela's exposed sex and watched as the young woman trembled. Then she fastened her lips over Angela's exposed clit and mercilessly attacked it, licking, sucking and nibbling simultaneously. Then she inhaled it deeply as she felt her cunt AND asshole fill with latex. The micro-pores oozed lubricant freely. Rebecca felt her orgasm make a passing swipe at her senses. She tried not to flinch Both women were working at a frenzied pace. With each lick, suck and twist they came closer to their own personal Heaven. Angela literally couldn't take it any more. At that instant, she felt Rebecca slide two fingers into her clenching asshole. Throwing her head back, Angela opened her mouth to scream. No sound came out, however. Her orgasm had robbed her voice... as well as all of her senses. She knew she was experiencing her first real mind-blowing orgasm. She also knew it was more than she could take. She saw her body twitching, then watched as it faded into nothingness. Rebecca savored her triumph with a truly spectacular orgasm. Her cunt rippled around the invading dildo, which pounded into her regardless of how tight she gripped it. The dildo no only scrapped her G-spot relentlessly, but it also kept banging at the entrance to her cervix. The dildo in her ass began to grow warm, and the lube was being forced out of the tip, simulating an exploding cock in her asshole. Rebecca let the sensations sweep her away, groaning with every pulse. Even the dripping cum felt soothing as it flowed down her legs. She was going to pass out. She did. * * * * Angela woke up in a bed. That was her first clue that she'd passed out. The second was the smell of soap. Someone had taken care to actually give her a bath after... Remembering the torrid sex session with Rebecca electrified every nerve on her flesh. It was the most unexpected and erotic thing she'd ever done. And that was just her first day on the job!! She rolled out of bed, noticing that she was naked. She started to look around for something to wear, then decided against it. If this was going to be her new home, she was going to walk around naked as much as possible. One fantasy down... so many more to go. And Rebecca would undoubtedly help her any way possible. Just a Job Rebecca fluttered her eyes open, her body still reacting from the orgasm. She licked her lips and remembered Angela's distinct flavor. Just tart enough to add flavor to her flesh. Sweet... but in a delicate way. Running a finger over her clit, Rebecca soared into another orgasm. As soon as she calmed down, she rose from her bed and walked over to her treasure chest. She opened it and selected the largest of her strapon dildos. The monstrosity had four independent vibrators attached. Four dildoes... four holes. Rebecca Quickly filled her asshole and cunt with hers, and strapped the device on. Everyone in her employ knew what this meant. Rebecca wanted to fuck someone VERY bad. And she didn't care who got in the way of her target. If they did, they got fucked. Hard. She'd been known to fuck her Executive Chef and all of her cooks... just because she wanted the deliverywoman THAT BAD. Those who actually liked the rough sex often waited for just these moments, which meant they knew her moods well. They'd known about Angela's employment. And were already placing themselves in Rebecca's way. For the next three hours, there were quite a few screams of pleasure and pain from the top floor of Bingham Manor. Just a Jog in the Park The sun was just starting to warm the air as I jogged my last lap around the park. I hadn't ran as far as I normally did, but I had spotted you sat at the little outdoor café. You were in your running clothes; your tight t-shirt showing your lean body and powerful arms. I brushed stray hairs away from my face, trying to look as presentable as possible. I slowed to a walk, signalling the waitress who served me every day. She knew my order. I took the chair opposite you and smiled my best flirty smile. This was a routine we repeated so often, I knew it would give me just the boost I needed. Your eyes travelled up my tanned, long legs as I stretched in the chair. My shorts are almost indecently short. I part my thighs a little, knowing that you will be able to see my underwear up the baggy legs of the shorts. As we flirt, your eyes flicker down again and again. Absently, I stroke the top of my leg, my fingers travelling in circles that occasionally travel under the hem. I love driving you crazy like this. I decide it's time to flash you something else. Leaning forward, sipping my drink suggestively through the straw, I let you get a good glace at the tops of my breasts. I can see that you are hard; the bulge in you shorts is too large to hide. I smirk. I love teasing you, knowing that you will never get your hands on me. You have a good body, but I am way out of your league. Even if you asked me out, I think I would tell you no. It's much more fun to imagine you at home, in the shower, wanking in frustration over glimpses of my tits and pants. "Fancy running a little further?" I nod. We have done this a couple of times, but don't do it often enough for it to be a habit. My smile widens as I know you will enjoy watching my ass wiggling and my tits bouncing. I will definitely have bend and tie my shoes at some point. Thinking about the last time we did this makes me sure that you are cursing the good weather. As we were running before, the heavens opened, torrential rail battering us. As always I had been running in tiny shorts. It had been really hot, and I was incredibly tanned, so my outfit was skimpier than usual and white. The top I had on was very supportive so I wasn't wearing a bra, and I hadn't bothered with underwear. Running as bare as possible always made me horny. You had led us to a run down hut: deserted, filthy, in the middle of no where, but out of the rain. It was the only time I had felt that maybe our flirting would be forced to another level. I had sat in a chair, legs spread, white top and shorts see through. I knew you could see my hard nipples, the red colour they take on when they are really sticking out. I knew that with my legs opened invitingly, you would be able to see the outline of my slit. The shorts were tight enough and soaked enough. I also knew that you would know I was unshaved, the dark patch of my pubic hair must have been evident. You had looked at me like you would take me then and there. I had been stupid that day. As you gazed at me I stood, walked over to you and pressed myself close. I told you I was freezing. I had rubbed my body up and down against yours, then feigned shock when you leant in for a kiss. You had gripped the tops of my arms tightly, as I rejected you, before coming to your senses and apologising. Feeling triumphant, knowing that there was no threat, I had bent over in front of you to fiddle with my shoe laces. I knew that the fabric was now so tight against my pussy and ass that you could probably even see my clit poking out from between my pussy lips. I had gone home and fingered myself so hard after that, the thrill of teasing you was amazing. Still, there is no hope of teasing you like that today. The sun is far too hot, with not a cloud in the sky. We jog further than I intended to. I start to feel strangely breathless, my legs a little wobbly. I slow to a stop with you coming to a halt behind me. As a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over me, I bend forward to rest my hands on my knees. I feel your hand on my back. It annoys me, but I feel too ill to argue. You take the top of my arm and pull me upright. I stagger into you, my legs giving way. "Come on, we can go to that hut. You can rest a while." I hadn't realised we were near there, but I am glad. My heart is hammering in my chest and I can barely stand. You half carry me, but after a few steps into the bushes we are entering the hut. It looks different from before. There is a mattress on the floor, there are tools and rope. A rucksack. I turn, puzzled. "Someone must be here." I slur. You let go of me and I fall to my knees. You are smiling down at me. I lay on my side as the world seems to slip to the side, tilting and tipping. I hear you laugh, though it sounds like you are very far away. My limbs are leaden. Consciousness comes slowly. I can't breathe properly. There is fabric in my mouth that I try to spit out. It tastes a little oily. I remember where I am. I realise that I must be face down on the mattress. My hands are bound painfully behind me. I moan, then scream into the fabric as a hand caresses my hair. "You little tease. You didn't think I would let you get away with it did you?" I whimper. Fear seeps through the mental haze. I struggle but it's pointless. I'm going nowhere; even my ankles are bound. You roll me onto my back, making my arms ache even more. I squeal, but you don't react. You are gazing down at me with a knife in your hand. I wriggle, trying to escape as you lean towards me. You haul me to my feet, then reach behind me and cut the tape securing my wrists. Before I can fight, you re-bind my hands before me, then tug them up above me. I look up to see a hook, which I am promptly secured to. You take the knife again, smiling wickedly, and slit open the front of my top. You roughly rip it from me, then cut my bra to free my breasts. I wait for you to grab them. Instead you lower the knife and cut away my shorts and pants. I start to panic. I try to kick you, but instead end up wrenching my shoulder. I moan in pain. You watch calmly as I try to free myself. Instead, I exhaust myself. I close my eyes, hoping that whatever you are planning will be over quickly. The shock of a bucket of freezing water splashing over my body forces my eyes open. I start to shiver. I am very aware that the cold is causing my nipples to harden. I watch as you lift up a cut throat razor. I know my eyes are wide. You step towards me and I whimper. I try to beg through my gag but get nowhere. I wonder if you will kill me. You place the razor down on a work bench, then take a pot of shaving foam and a brush from your bag. Using some of the water left in the bucket, you lather up. You roughly drag the brush through the black curly hair that is hiding my pussy from you. You bend and rip the tape from around my ankles. I kick you. I aimed for your stomach but get your thigh. You sigh. "I knew you wouldn't let this be easy." You pick up a trowel that is on the floor, circling behind me with it in your hands. You whack my ass with it. I cry out into the gag as pain radiates outwards from the impact. You hit me again and again, my flesh burning and tender. "It will be your tits next. Understand?" I nod furiously. After kicking my legs apart, you pick up the shaving equipment again and go back to lathering up my pussy hair. The stiff bristles scratch my tender flesh. You seem to purposely be causing me pain. The brush starts to move in circles, occasionally the bristles brush over my clit. Every time this happens I flinch a little, and struggle to stifle moans that are only half pain. My arms are really starting to ache, but I have no way to ease the pain. Since you untied my legs and made me spread them too much weight is on my arms. You pick up the cutthroat razor. Pulling a chunk of hair away from the flesh, you scrape the razor against me. Then the hair is gone. You repeat the tug, then scrape over and over. My newly exposed pussy is starting to really feel cold, not being used to having air touching it. You fingers deftly part my folds as you seek to trim me of every last hair. Your fingers are rough and warm against my flesh. I can't help but enjoy the new experience of my flesh being completely bare. The clinical touch that you have only helps to emphasise the intimate nature of the experience. I feel myself, much to my horror, getting wet. The razor starts to brush closer and closer to my clit. I hate that I am suddenly desperate for you to brush against it. It doesn't happen though. You are done, and I remind myself that this is not something that I wanted. I close my eyes, strangely exhausted. I am relieved to have the razor away from my delicate pussy. I don't realise that you are going to cut me down until I land hard on the mattress, my legs not prepared to take my weight. My hands are still tied in front of me, but I use my legs to try to scuttle away. Grabbing my hair you drag me back onto the mattress and throw me down roughly. "I warned you." I gaze up into your eyes. You pick up the trowel then squat down over my waist. You raise my hands above my head and bring the trowel down onto my breast. I cry out through the gag. I try to lower my hands to protect myself, but you are too quick. Alternating between breasts, you hit me again and again until they start to turn purple. "Put your arms above your head and spread you thighs." I do without question. I don't dare resist. You turn the trowel around, holding it by the flat bit you just beat me with. The handle is long and thick, made of smooth wood. I start to shake my head, but you kneel between my thighs. I try to shout around my gag. "Don't scream,' you say as you reach to remove it. I take a deep breath as the material is removed. "Don't, please don't.' I beg. You pick up the trowel again, looking me in the eyes. "You don't want this in your pussy?" I shake my head. The thought disgusts me. "You will pay the consequences of you decision." I nod. You roll me over. I feel sick. My ass is still tender from your previous spanking. Then, I feel you spreading my ass cheeks. I start to struggle until I am spanked, hard. I scream. You spank me again but this time I remain quiet. Again, you spread the cheeks of my ass. "Stay quiet and I won't hurt you too much. Remember that this was your choice." Before I can protest, I feel something hot and wet dribble over my hole. You roughly insert the handle. I feel like you will tear me open, I've never had a cock in there before and you didn't loosen me up at all first. You thrust the handle in and out with swift movements as I cry into the mattress. It feels like you do this for an eternity. When it is over, you allow me to roll back onto my back. You kneel down next to my face and wipe away my tears. "Good girl. You took your punishment well." "Thank you," I murmur before I consider what I am doing. I blush and suddenly can't meet your eyes. I can feel my pussy getting wet once again. You bend your head to my breasts and gently suck each nipple. Even this makes me ache though, after the punishment of earlier. I whimper as you start to massage them. Your hands start to stroke down my stomach, firm yet gentle. They reach in between my legs, pushing between the lips of my pussy. I try to pull away but not until it is too late. They push gently inside me. You bring you fingers back to my lips. "Can you see how wet you are?" I nod, shame burning my face. "Taste it." You hold your fingers just above my lips. I can't bring myself to stretch out my tongue and taste myself. You sigh. Quicker than I expected to see you move, you straddle my chest. You free your cock from your shorts. It is solid, a drop of liquid on the end. "Don't bite" is all you say before you thrust towards my face. When I don't open my mouth you pinch my nose. You are patient, and eventually I have to breathe. You are no longer gentle with me. You thrust to the back of my throat, not satisfied until my nose is buried in your pubic hair. I gag and choke, trying to accept your cock, desperate not to let you down; I know the punishment will be painful if I do. You pull out and for a moment I think I have disappointed you. You push a finger gently into my pussy then bring it back to my lips. I know I have to lick. Once I have cleaned your finger, you kiss me gently on the lips. I think that maybe this ordeal is over. You start to move down the mattress. I feel my stomach clench. Fear washes over me again as I realise what you are going to do. "No, no, no." I beg quietly. Predictably, you ignore me as you nestle your body between my thighs. You don't push your cock inside me though. Instead, you start to rub the head of it over my clit. The lack of hair has made me extra sensitive. I stifle the first moan, but can't keep in the second. You set a torturously slow pace. I can't help but grind my hips against you as you rub your cock over me again and again. I pant, desperate for a climax that is too slow coming. "Play with yourself." I do, without hesitation. It occurs to me that I have never done this before, in front of a man, and my cheeks colour but I can't stop. As I get close, you line the head of your cock up with my entrance. I cry out as I make myself come, the orgasm made more intense by you thrusting roughly into me. Desperate for you to be deep inside me, I wrap my legs around you, tilting my pelvis to allow you to go as deep as possible. You thrust roughly into me, slamming into my cervix. Pain radiates out from my centre, my pussy all the more tender thanks to my shameful orgasm. You fuck me with no mercy, only increasing the tempo as I whimper and writhe beneath you. It isn't long before I feel you tense, your come spurting into me. I expect you to lie beside me, to hold me. Instead, you get to your feet and pull on your shorts. I suddenly feel very sick, something isn't right. I watch, helpless, as you walk to the door of the hut. "You teased me for over a year. I have your clothes. You can choose: either you walk through the park naked, or you wait here to service me again." With that, you are gone.